


The Lies I Tell

by stargaza



Series: Sherlock Hogwarts!AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hogwarts!au, Sequel, again so sorry, all the feels, my poor children of angst, wizard!au, yusssss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargaza/pseuds/stargaza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Of All My Fears". John feared for Sherlock, but what does Sherlock fear?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lies I Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Again, also posted under stargaza on fanfiction.net. This concept for the sequel was given to me by a commenter on ff, so thanks to The Brainstormer (now ferociouslcat on ff.net). Here you go! Enjoy!

The Lies I Tell

Half of the people lie with their lips; the other half with their tears.

-Nassim Nicholas Taleb

Fear is not an emotion.

Fear is a hunger, a burning sensation of loss and need and sadness.

And at the same time, fear is the strongest emotion humans can convey.

Sherlock Holmes can't remember the last time he has been afraid. He's not afraid of spiders, or fire, or even death. Fear is close enough to an emotion, making fear unnecessary.

Being a sociopath has its perks. No cowardly urges for instance. Sherlock could have been put into Gryffindor if he really wanted to, but he felt more inclined to lean towards Ravenclaw, considering he's a genius. Another advantage to going emotion free, no sentiment. No sentiment, no friends, no friends, no distractions.

Then how did he ever become attached to John?

John Watson, a Gryffindor, has been Sherlock's best friend for the duration of their three years at Hogwarts. John brought out a side to Sherlock that seemed…

Human.

When Professor Lupin had announced that the class would be going up against a real boggart, John had seemed nervous. That was the first time Sherlock had ever seen John truly afraid of what might happen. Students whispered excitedly around them. Trying to quiet his nerves, John had asked Sherlock, "Boggarts turn into your greatest fear, right? So, what's your greatest fear?"

The question had caught Sherlock by surprise. He had never spent too much time to dwell on his fears. "I…" He had started. "I don't know." Sherlock's face grew dark. Shaking his head slightly, he turned to John replying, "What's yours?"

John nearly started to tremble. "Nothing." He replied in a squeaky voice. "I'd rather not say." Sherlock could see that this was a touchy subject for his friend, so he turned back to his book in silence, dropping the matter. They didn't talk for the rest of the class, each thinking. One in fear, one in expectation.

That was yesterday, and as the students filed into the small classroom, Sherlock noticed John becoming more and more agitated. He tried to lighten the mood by commenting, "Man up John! Your greatest fear is probably getting an F in History of Magic!" John only looked more nervous.

They both stayed silent while each of their classmates went. Finally, it was John's turn.

As the wardrobe door opened, Sherlock understood why John hadn't confided to him what his fear was. It was Sherlock's dead body. John sank to the ground, weeping.

Sherlock ran to his side and held John in his arms, speaking comforting words. Sherlock felt some of his own tears sliding down his cheeks. "Just say the spell." Sherlock pleaded.

John whispered, "Riddikulus." He fell into Sherlock's arms, sobbing harder than ever. Sherlock looked at the boggart. The illusion changed.

Sherlock almost screamed. The body was now John's, bloody and broken, a single bullet between his eyes. A shadow loomed over his body, clutching a gun. Sherlock was using all of his self-control to not alert John of his situation. Who is the shadow? Who killed John? Sherlock wondered.

And then the realization hit him.

He softly clung to John harder as Professor Lupin disposed of the boggart. He needed to be strong, for John.

When he returned to the Ravenclaw common room several hours later, he flopped down on his four-poster bed and released the pent up rage and hurt he had been feeling earlier. The images of the shadow and John's corpse raced through Sherlock's mind as he yelled and bawled into his pillow. The boggart hadn't shown him his greatest fear, it had shown him his two greatest fears.

Losing John, and never knowing who did it.


End file.
